


Garashir Ficlets

by Fanfic_For_The_Void



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Massage, Pretending to be Asleep, hand overwashing, loved to the point of invention, sleepy rambles, talk of marriage, tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_For_The_Void/pseuds/Fanfic_For_The_Void
Summary: I'm collecting all the little Garashir snippets that come out of me right here! These are mostly going to be unrelated to any other Trek fics I've posted, and probably tooth rotting fluff :D Updates as I write them!
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 26
Kudos: 52





	1. A Massage For The Weary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in a haze right before I fell asleep so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy one (1) sleepy Julian :)
> 
> (Written January 15 2021)

Julian was floating, or at least it felt like it. He lay face down on Garak’s mattress, being kneaded into it like bread dough. His lover’s hands slid up his bare back, cool and smooth, working out the day's tension and exhaustion.

Julian’s cheek was pressed against Garak’s pillow, and he breathed in the lingering scent of him.

“Mmm.”

The weight of Garak, seated on his buttocks, grounded him. Although his eyes were closed, he could feel the man’s torso above him, like a shelter.

Scaled fingers skittered up his sides, feather light. Julian shivered pleasurably. “I don’t think that was strictly therapeutic,” he mumbled.

“Did you enjoy it?” Elim asked, voice a low purr by his ear.

“Yes.” Julian said, wiggling his hips to punctuate his point.

“No. Rest,” Elim admonished. He placed stilling palms on Julian’s lower back.

“Not if you keep doing things like that,” Bashir grumbled, turning his head to squint at him.

“I promise I’ll stop.” Garak’s smile was anything but remorseful.

“You’re such a tease.”

“Shhh.”

Elim’s hands spread out over his back once more, thumbs working into the muscle knots. Julian’s eyes closed. Soon, his thoughts became liquid, and it only barely registered that Garak’s touch was slowing, massage turning into gentle caresses.

The last thing he heard was a quiet “sleep, dear”. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and a body settled beside him, but it could have just as easily been a dream.


	2. Not Asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need declarations of love, you know?
> 
> (Written January 24 2021)

It was true that Cardassian hearing was poor. If Garak were asleep as he pretended to be, Julian’s low tones would not have been enough to wake him, and his mumbled confessions would have gone unheard. 

“Elim Garak,” he mused. “Do you love me? I know you don’t like to say it, but you do. I know you do.”

The answer to that question was yes, unequivocally, and had been for longer that Julian realized. Yes, his love had grown deeper every day, but the first terrible, startling, wonderful time he assigned that word to Julian was when he was clawing his way out of the haze of withdrawal, only a year and a half after they had met. Perhaps it had been too soon. Of course it had been too soon, but exhausted, on death’s door, seeing Julian return from the Arawath Colony, the first thing he thought was love. There was no going back.

“I love you my dear. To the ends of the galaxy,” Julian murmured. “I never want to lose you.”

They were at war. Each day could be the end of them, or worse, only one of them. Selfishly, Elim hoped he would go first. Julian could survive a life without him, but he was unsure of the reverse.

“Do you know how much you mean to me?” Julian asked. “I say it, but I don’t think you believe me yet.” It could have been a response to Garak’s thoughts. “You’re my sun and stars.”

Oh, now it was difficult. Garak had been carefully regulating his breathing and muscle movements, a practiced skill that allowed him to fool even a genetic augment into thinking he was truly asleep. Sun and stars indeed. It was physical, what he fought, aching to pull Julian close to him. Sun and stars was a reference to  _ The Never Ending Sacrifice _ , a raw, honest, line from Borrot’s vows as he wedded Lojol.

“I am going to marry you Elim Garak.”

How fortunate then, that in a hidden compartment in the nightstand, Garak had already stored a set of two rings.


	3. To The Point of Invention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There once was a very great American surgeon named Halsted. He was married to a nurse. He loved her-- immeasurably. One day Halsted noticed that his wife's hands were chapped and red when she came back from surgery. And so he invented rubber gloves. For her. It is one of the great love stories in medicine. The difference between inspired medicine and uninspired medicine is love. When I met Ana, I knew: I loved her to the point of invention."   
> \- excerpt from _The Clean House_ by Sarah Ruhl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the current pandemic I've been doing a ton of extra hand washing at work, and my sad red hands gave me inspiration!
> 
> (Written February 9 2021)

It had taken a week of research, two weeks of collecting ingredients, and a day of preparation to create Julian’s present. It now sat in a covered wooden bowl on the table, a small bow tied over the protective waxed fabric. Within a couple minutes, Julian should be home from the hospital, tired but happy. Garak checked the chronometer above the stove. Unfortunately it still read the same as it had a couple moments ago.

Anticipation bubbled warmly in Garak’s chest. It was not often now that he had cause to be secretive, but these past few weeks had been exhilarating. Obscuring his schedule of day trips to other provinces, stowing away the hard won snippets of plants, it was not so different from setting up an assasination, except in every way that mattered.

Finally, Elim heard the muffled beeps of an access code over the noise of the city.

“I’m home!” Julian called from the hallway. A pause. “Garak?”

“In here,” he replied, unable to wipe the growing smile from his face.

“It was so quiet in here I thought you had gone to your office,” Bashir said, puttering around out of sight. Stepping into the small dining space, he let his bag slide to the floor, and stretched luxuriously. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that on your day off.”

Garak sat at the table, hands clasped neatly. “Not today.”

“Good. You work too hard,” Julian chided, heading over to the kitchen sink.

“Coming from you, Doctor?” Garak teased. It hurt him to see how delicately Julian washed his hands, and pressed them into the towel hanging from the stove. 

“It’s my job,” Julian countered, seating himself across the small table from Garak. Julian mirrored his clasped hands, and his knuckles were highlighted in the afternoon light, bleeding in one spot, red and cracked. 

“I know,” Elim sighed.

“What have you got, Garak?” Bashir asked, pulling the covered bowl towards him.

“A present for you,” Elim said, pressing his lips together to suppress his grin.

“Oh my, what’s the occasion?” Julian laughed, picking at the bow. Garak winced. He could practically hear the scrape of the rough twine against Julian’s fingertips.

“No occasion.”

Julian looked up, delighted. Oh, stars, it was unfair how his eyes sparkled.

“Have you done something horrible that I haven’t found out about yet?” he grinned, unwrapping the bowl. The fabric was not truly gift wrap, but the same prepared cloth they used to wrap food for preservation. A recovering Cardassia was not a place of luxury.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Ah yes, what I’ve always wanted… Goo.” Julian frowned at the pale substance before him.

“Put some on your hands,” Garak prompted.

“No!” Julian exclaimed, eyes wide. “How did you get this through a transport?”

“I didn’t,” Garak replied maddeningly. 

“How?” Julian demanded, scooping a fingerful of the cream up. He slathered it over his hands, and his eyes closed. He let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, this is wonderful. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I made it.” Garak could no longer fight his smile.

Julian’s eyes shot open. “You didn’t!”

“I assure you I did.” 

They had discovered a while ago that the oil Cardassians used for moisturization did not absorb into Bashir’s human skin. As a doctor, handwashing was frequent, and necessary. It didn’t take long for dryness, then cracking to set in. He and Garak had looked into ordering lotion from a federation supplier, but the trade regulations would not allow for it. Every transport to Cardassia was packed to the bulkheads with only the essentials. It was ironic. As a politician he should have been able to work his way around that.

“Where did you find the right ingredients?” Julian asked in wonder.

“I had to do quite some research for that,” Garak admitted. “I didn’t know which Cardassian plants would work.”

“You  _ made _ this. From scratch,” Julian murmured, eyes shining. “Oh, Garak.” He launched himself up from the table, and pulled him into a crushing embrace. He was warm and soft and too much for Elim’s lovesick heart. “I could kiss you,” he chuckled into Garak’s shoulder. 

“By all means, please do,” Elim mumbled into Julian’s hair.

“Oh!” Julian pulled back with half a grin. “If you insist.”

He swung a leg over Garak’s chair and settled gently onto his lap. Bringing both hands up to cradle Elim’s face, he kissed him.

It was like he was melting from the inside. Soft human lips against his own. His beautiful, amazing doctor pressed against him, more wonderful than anything he had imagined.

Elim pulled back for a moment, though it almost killed him. He had things to say.

“Julian,” he murmured, allowing himself the name. “An earth playwright of yours has said my words for me.” Oh, the way Julian looked at him. “I love you, my dear, to the point of invention.”


End file.
